


My Intention

by VenusJune13



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Minor Character Death, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusJune13/pseuds/VenusJune13
Summary: The story of a love triangle after a tragedy steals someone one of them loves.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	My Intention

I am Elyssa Thornhill. This is my story. 

It starts with a fire. The fire that killed my parents and my old life. A life of ice cream when I passed and study hours when I failed. 

They are dead and the memories kill me. And it was all my fault. Not like I lit a match but if I was there it wouldn't have happened. But it is still my fault. All of it. 

I will tell you why. I had tutorials and lived maybe two blocks away from the school so I didn't tell them I would be home late. The reason I didn't tell them is that I left my phone at home and I couldn't remember their numbers. 

I was one of those stupid girls that couldn't remember contacts without their phone. This makes it even more of my fault. I still left my phone and went to tutorials without telling them.

I thought it would be fine. When I saw the house ablaze and my poor thirteen-year-old brother crying at the curb, I knew it was my fault. 

I could just imagine it. Them arguing over where I was and then thinking I was in the house. After that, they would've fought over who went in and who would stay in case I came back. 

They ended up both going in hand in hand. They loved each other too much to die without each other. I knew this. Now they're dead. All because I couldn't tell them I would be stuck at school.

I remember Malachai seeing me, hugging me so tight as if he was going to lose me. I remember him nuzzling into my neck to smell something that wasn't smoke. I remember after when the firefighters had extinguished the house and cleared the way for us to go inside to get our unburnt belongings.

In the mess of ash, soot, and burnt remains of our parents were two rings that were slightly rusted from the fire. Rings that my mother wanted me to have.

I cried as they sat in my hand instead of on my parent's warm ring fingers. The ones that would go to my brother were in the vault, unharmed, and perfect shape. Tears flowed down my cheeks even more. I blinked them back as I looked for salvageable items around the house. I fill a bag with them. 

Once we were finished, we left to our aunt's until the people fixed our house. She couldn't afford to have us there for long. She had too much to deal with. A baby on the way. A husband who just got let off from work. 

We had help after that from friends and teachers. Money. Occasional sleepovers at friends' houses until the house was redone. 

The house looked so weird like when we had got it except our parents weren't with us. It smelled slightly of smoke. 

Malachi stayed out of the house more and when he did come home it would be at late hours and he would be wasted. I warned him to stop but never saw him anymore so he couldn't tell him what to do really

. He now preferred to be called Malik because our parents called him Kai. He no longer grieved our parents. He pretended everything was normal. That we had always been like this. No parents. Nobody with us but each other.

Him being wasted and late to bring home every day. Me trying to hold the two of us together after their death. After what was my fault. Trying to fix something that I had done. He didn't blame me though. 

He blamed our parents. Only one should've gone in. Yet both did. So he blamed them while I blamed myself. I blame myself for everything that happened to me and my brother afterward as well. As far as I could tell, it was no one's fault as much as mine. 

Today is the anniversary of my parents' death. Malachai ignores it but I don't. I write a letter every year since then and burn it like my parents were burned.


End file.
